


Prince Bel, the (St)Ripper

by Amanda908565



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: B59 - Freeform, Bel targets Gokudera, Gokudera thinks he's straight, Gokudera vs Seatbelt child lock, M/M, Some Humor, lol no, strip club au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanda908565/pseuds/Amanda908565
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yamamoto drags Gokudera to a strip club, he's expecting the idiot to bring him to some random club downtown. WHat he didn't expect was that it was a mafioso club, and even more? A gay strip club. What happens when Gokudera is stuck alone when one of the dancers enters the stage and makes him his personal target? Gokudera isn't even gay! Or is he...? B59 high T rating Slight AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Bel, the (St)Ripper

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, I found this prompt on the KHR kink meme, except it was B27. So I decided that I wanted to write a B59 version. I love you guys, and I'm sorry about not updating.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own KHR
> 
> Enjoy!

"Come on, Gokudera! It'll be fun!" The tall baseball star tried to convince his best friend. His large amber eyes glowed with excitement, just waiting for his stressed, stoic friend to cave. Gokudera pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with speed what would have most people believe that it was lit as soon as he pulled it out of the pack. He all but growled at the ravenette.

"I'm not going," he spoke icily as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Yamamoto's usually wide grin only widened.

"I thought you were going to say that. Ah, sorry for this," Yamamoto spoke with nervousness in his voice. He grabbed his bat, which he had tapped a pillow to earlier (for his friend's comfort), swung, and Gokudera crumpled to a heap on the floor. Although the baseball idol winced, he didn't hear any cracks, so the bomber will probably just wake up with headache. Yamamoto shrugged, picking up his lithe and lightweight friend, propping him over his shoulder and grabbing the keys to the car on their way out of their shared apartment. While walking out of the doorway, Yamamoto accidentally shifted his unconscious friend on his shoulder.

Thump.

The baseball fanatic eyes went wide, "...woops..." He carefully moved himself the rest of the way to the car.

It was twenty minutes later when Gokudera first woke up. "Nnngh," he moaned in slight pain. His head was throbbing, and he wasn't exactly in a comfortable position. He cracked open his eyes, bright street lights flashing, illuminating the area every couple of seconds. "Ugh...where am I?" Low music played lightly, an engine humming lowly in the background. The silverette's eye twitched when he heard the all familiar chuckle, his fingers itching to wrap around the drivers throat and choke the life out of his roommate.

"Oh? You're awake? Huh, guess I didn't hit you that hard! Ahaha!" He laughed carelessly. Yamamoto briefly glanced down at Gokudera's legs. He mentally sighed in relief when he saw that he  _did_ remember that duct tape was set. Gokudera growled at the response. "We're heading to the strip club, it's gonna be so much fun!" Yamamoto, suffice to say, was extremely excited that they were going. He would get to see his love.

"You fucking baseball bastard!" He cried, squirming in his seat, "you taped my hands together?!" He attempted to try to and pull apart his wrists, but it was to no avail. Yamamoto hummed nonchalantly as he continued to drive the fast sport car. The baseball idol was counting the seconds before Gokudera realized that the seatbelt had the child lock on.

"WHY IS THIS SEATBELT SO DAMN TIGHT?!" Gokudera yelled while the driver of the car glanced to the side, his hands tightening on the wheel.

"Ah, aha, funny story about that..." he trailed off, his right hand releasing his grip on the wheel to scratch the back of his ear. "I might have been concerned that you would drive the car off the road, or blow it up, so I put the child restraint on."

Gokudera fumed and cussed violently, practically thrashing about in his seat. "You...fucking...bastard..." he breathed out between fits of gasping. "This...damn...thing...too...tight!"

Yamamoto continued to drive, ignoring the threats of death and pain thrown his way from the silverette's mouth. He pulled into the parking lot, and drove up slowly to the valet service. "Behave, Gokudera," he warned, "don't want to make a spectacle of yourself, right?" he chuckled full-heartedly. Gokudera glared but calmed down. The swordsman stepped out of his car with a graceful leap, tossing the keys to the young valet, and striding towards the other side of the car while discretely flicking open a pocket knife. He clicked his friend's seatbelt off and the other sucked in a huge breath.

"That stupid belt kept getting tighter and tighter," he groaned as Yamamoto cut the duct tape off.

"You were the one who kept moving," he commented.

As soon as Gokudera had collected himself, he had stepped out of the car. He and the other idiot seemed out of place. Both had on black suits, with a red and blue dress shirt, respectively. The black ties and shoes they sported completed the look. Yamamoto began to walk towards the entrance, a light skip in his step. Well, at least one of them was happy to be there.

A gruff man sat in a throne-like chair. The bouncer, he assumed. Yamamoto walked up to him smiling. The other grimaced. "Yo! Xanxus! How's it going?" Xanxus...that was the name of the Ninth Vongola boss' adoptive son. It quickly clicked that this club was mafioso  _only_ , so why in the bloody hell has Yamamoto been allowed access to the club? When the baseball idol asked what Gokudera did for a living, the silver headed man told him he was a freelance hitman, the only laughed and asked, "aren't we a bit too old to be playing games?"

Xanxus only rolled his eyes, which soon landed on the unusual guest. "What's Smokin' Bomb doing here, scum?" Red eyes pierced the other, and Gokudera had to bite back one of his sarcastic remarks.

However, a different sarcastic remark slipped past his lips, "oh, so you question when an actual mafia member shows up, but not when this fucking idiot does?"

Xanxus growled lowly, but turned his attention back on Yamamoto. "The Decimo is in there," he jerked his head towards the door. "Keep an eye on that one," he motioned his hand toward Gokudera, "Poison Scorpion has been looking for him for years, she's tending the bar," his lips then twitched upwards into a smirk, "tell the  _royal_ pain in the ass that I want him to entertain the other piece of trash," he told Yamamoto while his eyes flickered to Gokudera.

All Yamamoto responded with was a raised eyebrow, but didn't question the large, scarred man in front of him. He merely pulled Gokudera through the door with him. Loud music blasted through both of their ears, strobe lights illuminated the dancers, and colored lights were weaving themselves across the walls, floors, and the bar.

The music's bass vibrated through the floor as the dancers were on elevated platforms, performing in a sleek manner, with eyes half lidded. Yamamoto disappeared quickly, knowing that the shifts were going to change any minute, and he wants an upclose view of his beauty.

Gokudera was left to wander aimlessly around the club in between staring women, and men, as he made his way to the bar. He really could use a drink right at that moment. As he found his way to the bar, he saw the familiar sheen of glossy pink hair. His face blanched as he turned away at the very same moment that Bianchi turned her head, sensing that someone was staring at her. She saw a familiar haircut as her eyes narrowed.

"Shamal!" She shrieked, "don't even come over to the bar, you bastard!" The man next to Gokudera cringed. The silver headed man let out a sigh of relief.

"But Bianchi-chan~," he cried, "I was just following the man that copied my hair cut to the bar! Surely you can seen that." The perverted doctor from Gokudera's past explained in an intoxicated stupor. The bomb user cursed as he tried to slyly walk away from Shamal.

Bianchi's voice cut him off. "Hayato!" She cried, jumping over the the bar without spilling a single drink. She all but flew over to her brother who instinctively closed his eyes. "Oh, Hayato, how I have missed you, my brother."

Gokudera fumbled his way out of her grasp, keeping his eyes closed. "Stay off of me, crazy woman, I need to find the idiot that brought me here," he muttered and turned in a random direction. He slipped his eyes open and walked towards a very inviting black leather chair near the corner of the room.

"Can I get you a drink?" A red-headed waitress asked him as soon as he took his seat. She smiled brightly, innocently.

"Whiskey." Was all that he responded while searching the club. An overzealous white-haired male stipper with tape on his hands and nose was earning hundreds by the second as he worked around the pole yelling ridiculous things about how extreme he was being. He looked at the main person donating their money to his...dance, if you could even call it that. He just kept striking boxing posses. The viewer was obviously a flamboyant male with green hair, gloves and shades on. Gokudera merely scoffed at some of the mafia world's kinks. His eyes continued to search the club in search of a female stripper that would be able to catch his interest. Of course, there were absolutely none.

The idiot, Gokudera internally cursed, brought him to a gay mafia strip club?! His eye twitched wildly. The waitress returned, a tray in hand with two glasses of the drink he asked. She looked at him and smiled again, "you seemed stressed," she chirped happily, "so I got you two drinks. On the house as per orders of my boss," she told him. She seemed to be contemplating something, "I wonder why she's wearing sunglasses inside tonight..." She trailed off as she scampered off to take the order of the next customer.

He rolled his eyes as his pale fingers stretched out to grasp the first glass, immediately downing the alcohol, burning his throat in a painful, yet pleasurable way. He wasn't gay, why the baseball idiot decided to drag him along, he had no utter clue. The shift ended, and the models changed. He dismissed the new song playing and was content to just sit and search for the idiot that brought him there.

There! He spotted the ravenette lounging in a loveseat, intently watching the dancer on the raised platform. Spiky, gravity defying hair, with molten caramel eyes mostly lidded danced around on stage, slowly stripping off his clothes, piece by piece. The skin tight orange pants were still kept on, shining slightly in the glowing light. The boy had now gone shirtless, a chain lying against his pale neck. He wondered why a kid that looked so innocent was involved in a mafia strip club. He scoffed. The boy looked very young, too young. Gokudera scoffed once again, he always knew that that baseball idiot was a secret pervert.

His gaze was torn away from the pair as the lights around him dimmed. A single spotlight shone on the center stage. The room went silent.

"Ushishishi~" A voice laughed as a figure stepped into the light. The slim stature of the male was quite interesting. Pale, porcelain white skin, with hair and bangs that covered his eyes shined gold. A silver tiara lies lopsided against the crown of gold strands. The dancer walked around the stage, observing the audience. He moved with the grace of a predatory animal, slinking through, looking at the prey that watched with lust-filled eyes.

A wide smile that would rival the Cheshire Cat's made it's way onto the blonde's face, all teeth; another laugh escaped his throat, high and childish. "Pay attention to the Prince, peasants!" He called out while strutting towards the pole located in the middle of the stage.

Gokudera rolled his eyes at the self-proclaimed "Prince". He scoffed, taking a sip of the second drink that the waitress had delivered to him, enjoying the dull burn as the liquid dripped down his throat. Platform shoes made clicking sounds that were slightly muted by the loud music.

A pale hand gripped the silver metal, walking around once more to gain another look at his crowd. The Prince noticed a silver head looking off to his side, soon pulling out his phone and, what seemed like, texting someone. Eyes hidden by bangs narrowed, a challenge was announced, and it wouldn't be good for the peasants to see their Prince to lose, would it? Another laugh left his mouth, but this one sounded different. This laugh held a foreshadow of the battle that was going to commence.

Gokudera, hearing the laughter, experienced a chill travel down his spine. He snapped his head back towards the lit stage. The sight he was greeted with was something...he couldn't describe it at all. There in front of him, was the so-called-Prince with a smirk on his face as he danced around the metal pole. Even without seeing the other's eyes, he could understand that the other was displaying pure sex. Long fingers moved to shrug off the long coat, leaving him in his white and black boots, the striped purple shirt, and the ever so tight black pants. Gokudera attempted to look away, but he could feel the gaze of the dancer burning holes into his own retinas, even from behind the shaggy blonde bangs. A leg wrapped itself around the pole, along with a hand keeping its own grip on the metal, the blonde dancers leaned out. The silver tiara shifted in his hair as he moved, but yet it remained on. Once he righted himself, he moved his hands down and across his chest, down to the hem of his shirt. Ever so slightly he teased, bringing the long sleeved shirt up to his navel, before he let it fall back down.

"Hurry it up already, would you?!" A voice demanded from somewhere in the ever silent crowd.

A long, oddly shaped knife was flung towards the chair that occupied the voice. "Ushishishi~ it would do you well not to interrupt the Prince," the dancer chastised. In his hand were more of the same types of knives now embedded in the expensive upholstery.

"Oi, Bel-senpai," a monotonous voice called out, "get back to work before the lousy shark-face commander starts to yell."

"Ka-ching." The blonde hissed. "Shut up, Froggy," the Prince, now also known as Bel hissed before he threw a knife at the other's head before returning to his performance. Now, Bel returned to his teasing, and a few seconds later, a small rip was heard as he dragged his hand up his shirt, the glint of metal flashing quickly. Once his shirt was cut off, the audience, and Gokudera, who, refused to admit he was enthralled with the act, stared at a pale torso, back, and arms that were littered with scars. Each little mark reflected the light in different ways. Gokudera caught sight of a crescent moon, what was it? A crescent moon tattoo? No, a tattoo wouldn't look like that. It must have been a birthmark, a strange one at that.

Bel was playing dirty that night while he moved across the stage; sensual poses and seductive dance moves were implying it greatly. The rest of the dancers had never seen the other move in such a way, especially for an audience. Gokudera's tongue flicked out to moisten his chapped lips, raising up his drink to his mouth. Bel's mouth was either shaped in a provocative 'o' shape, or in his creepily wide smile. He was the cat.

Gokudera was the mouse.

Even if he didn't know it yet, that is how the Prince was observing the situation. He was merely playing with prey; toying around before he makes the final strike. The dancer moved to press his chest up against the metal pole, sticking his hind end outwards. He slowly made his way down until suddenly picking himself up, arching his back like the cat he received his smile from. The golden haired male dropped to the floor, his legs bent with his knees pointing in opposite directions, his porcelain hand held himself balanced as his fingertips pressed against the illuminated stage. The Prince stood up slowly, his smile wide and full of tales that were to come-although, no one else besides Bel knew the meaning of.

Yet another signature laugh escaped his lips as he strutted off stage. While moving into the backstage room, he brushed by Tsunayoshi, who quickly stuttered out an apology, and then something else for Bel to do. He smirked curiously; his boss never asked anything of his workers, even going as far as to work with them as just another dancer. Bel was not one to want to cross the young Decimo, or hear the stupid shark yell at him for it. His eyes lingered for a few seconds on the disappearing brunette, he figured he was going to spend time with his Rain Guardian, who was also his boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Gokudera was having a bit of a...problem. The mafioso squirmed in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs in a continuous loop. He  _did not_  have an erection. He  _did not_  get turned on by the way a  _male_ stripper was dancing. And he  _was not_  questioning his sexuality! Even if that pale skin would feel so smooth compared to his calloused fingertips and rough skin. If that golden blonde fringe were to mix with his own silver colored hair, would it look like tangled necklaces, and other jewelry? Why were the other's eyes covered? What  _color_  were those hidden eyes?

"Goddamit, Hayato!" He scolded himself in a whisper, "get your shit together. Find the idiot that dragged you here, kill him, then  _leave._ " Gokudera hissed while staring at the ground in front of him. The hit man didn't seem to realize that someone of equal power was studying the conflicted silverette in amusement.

The admirer moved closer, leaning down to the other's position from the behind. "Haya-chan," a voice cooed next to his ear, "what's this about killing someone? Hm? Ushishi," Bel laughed lightly, "hope you weren't thinking about killing the Prince, especially since he left you with such an...issue," he laughed again. Gokudera hadn't moved in the slightest, how was he expected to? Thin, but strong, arms locked themselves around the bomber's neck, the blonde's chin resting on Gokudera's shoulder as he leant down to drape himself over the other's body. As if he wished to mock the other's predicament.

Gokudera grunted once, and felt the arms being removed. He sighed in relief, but it was in vain. The blonde, instead of somewhat hugging the customer from the back, was now sprawled out on top of his prey. A firm ass 'accidentally' placing itself onto Gokudera's hard member, pushing down slightly. Such an action caused the other to groan out, despite the fact that his lip was being bitten as if that would help hold in the mewling and whimpers as Bel pressed down more and squirmed in his lap.

Bel smiled widely, cackling, while placing his arms around the other's neck once again. "Get...off," Gokudera demanded, but it come out more like a whine. "Damn knife bastard," he muttered, which caused the Prince to laugh once a again, pulling lightly on his prey's silver locks.

"What was that," he whispered pushing himself up. His other hand sneaked down to pull out a curved knife, pressing it onto the other's unblemished skin below his jaw, "peasant?" He enunciated the word slowly, blowing a puff of air from his mouth. His smile changed, well, to the untrained eye it would seem to be unchanged, but to people who knew Belphegor, they would easily be able to see the malice that his grin held.

Cool metal was pressed against Gokudera's hot and flushed skin, he gulped, which caused his adam's apple to bob quickly. Soon enough, the cold feeling of steel was gone, replaced by a stinging sensation. A small gasp escaped as he felt  _something_  trickle down the outside of his throat. The bomber knew for a fact that he was not drooling, nor was he exactly pooling sweat. He glanced down as he felt the bead of liquid leave the surface of his skin. Upon looking down, he was greeted with Bel's wide smile, full of teeth and threats to come, along with a crimson, ruby red drop that fell onto the attacker's cheek. He realized that the substance was blood; he tried to push the dancer off of him, but it was to no avail, instead, it seemed to make things worse. Bel held on, while grinding down onto the other's erection while he flailed about, trying to get away.

Rough, choppy breaths were all that Gokudera seemed to breathe. What was this fucking idiot doing? He could see that Gokudera wanted him to stop, yet he continued with his plight. The bomber's face turned as red as his burgundy dress shirt. "Get off me, you fucking brat," he hissed while Bel simply pushed down, swiveled his ass, then stood up, licked his lips, and brought his finger up to brush away the spot of blood on his cheek. He studied the red liquid on his finger before he pushed the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, moaning lightly.

When he finished, he smirked at Gokudera, "ta-ta," he waved his finger in the air before strutting away, hips swinging back and forth from left to right. Gokudera, was left on the seat, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood, fighting off the orgasm that he felt building up. He tried to close his eyes, which, he would deny that it would ever happen, were glued on the dancer who was currently walking away.

Belphegor stopped before he exited the club room through the door that led to the breakroom. He turned his head over his left shoulder, his bangs moving out of the way slightly. Locking eyes with Gokudera, he gave him a sultry look, his own eyes locking onto the silverette's.

Gokudera's eyes went as wide as dish plates as he saw the Prince's eyes. That look, those eyes, and the way that Bel was positioned was more than enough for Gokudera who absentmindedly palmed his clothed erection. The blonde Prince saw the action and smirked as he left the room, hearing a cry of pleasure rocket over the bass of the club music.

"The Prince always wins," said Prince laughed while continuing on his way to his room.

_Fin._


End file.
